Rebirth Of The Heiress And The Tycoon's Lover (Alina) novel Chapter 118

Chapter 118

AUTHOR’S POV

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Lucian’s heartbeat thundered in his ears as he squeezed off the shot. Jackson crumpled to the floor with a strangled cry, clutching his side. Without a second thought, Lucian sprinted across the filthy concrete toward Alina’s bed.

She lay half–naked on the dirty mattress, wrists still chained, her blouse torn, dark bruises spread across her arms and legs, a streak of blood on her temple. Her eyelids fluttered.

“Lucian…” She whispered his name before her body went limp in relief and exhaustion.

“No….” Lucian’s voice broke as he dropped to his knees beside her.

He took off his in one motion and draped it over her cold frame, pressing his body against the thin fabric to warm her. Rage and horror warred in his gaze.

“Ace!” he barked, his tone deadly calm. “Get me the keys, now!”

Ace snapped to attention. He sprinted to where a groaning Jackson lay curled on the floor, half–conscious, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Jackson’s eyes flew open, wild with delirium.

“My Rosa…” he snarled, clutching at the wound. “Don’t you, don’t you touch her! She’s mine!” He yelled towards Lucian. “Get off me!” He turned to Ace who was trying to grab the key.

Ace wasn’t deterred by his weak attempt though, he reached for Jackson’s belt and unhooked the heavy ring of jailer’s keys. He jogged back and dropped them into Lucian’s outstretched hand.

Lucian turned towards Alina, fury etched into every line of his face, as he stared at her cuffed wrist, he jammed the keys into the cuff and twisted.

The chain fell away with a clink, and Lucian swept her into his arms. Her head lolled against his chest. He felt the dampness of her tears soaking his shirt and the ragged rise and fall of her breathing which was faint.

“What are you doing? Let go of her, she belongs to me!” Jackson screamed at Lucian who was already close to blowing a fuse.

“Ace,” Lucian growled, voice low. “Take her, get her upstairs. Make arrangements for Private doctors to be on standby at the mansion.”

“Yes, sir.” Ace offered a quick nod, then scooped Alina gently from Lucian’s arms and carried her out of the cold basement.

Lucian turned back to Jackson. The man’s face was twisted, blood oozing from his wound, rage still flickering in his eyes.

“You,” Lucian whispered dangerously, stepping forward. “By the time I am done with you, you are going to wish you never even breathe in her direction.”

He launched himself at Jackson, fists flying. Each punch landed with a sickening impact. Cheek to knuckle,

11:17 Mon, Sep 22

Chapter 118

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jaw to fist. Jackson’s head snapped back, he tried desperately to shield himself, but Lucian’s strength was like a boulder. Bone cracked. Jackson’s hoarse screams turned to groans.

“Stop… please…” Jackson gasped.

Lucian didn’t stop. Not until his knuckles throbbed, his gloves stained dark. Only when Ace’s hand touched his shoulder did he relent.

“Boss-” Ace murmured.

Lucian didn’t even realize Ace had returned.

Lucian’s chest heaved. He wiped his knuckles on a handkerchief Ace offered, then tossed the stained fabric onto Jackson’s motionless form.

“Take him to the warehouse cells,” Lucian ordered the men who had surrounded them. “Treat his bullet wound and nothing else. No anesthesia. He needs to feel every fucking second.”

Two grim–faced guards nodded, hauled Jackson’s limp form to his feet, and dragged him away.

Lucian watched him go, rage still flickering in his eyes, before turning to Ace.

“Alina?” He asked Ace.

“Waiting in the car,” Ace said softly. “Doctors at the mansion are ready to operate.”

“Good,” he said, voice husky. He turned back toward the basement room. Every wall was plastered with photographs, Alina’s face over and over, Rosa’s too, and a handful of other women whose eyes were empty. “Burn this place to the fucking ground. Every scrap of it.”

Ace’s eyes widened. “Sir?”

Lucian lifted his head. “Did I stutter?” His gaze was hard but steady. “This place reeks of death. Of pain. Of too many lives stolen. I want it burnt to the ground.”

Lucian could only imagine what the other women who couldn’t be saved went through. They were just like Alina, helpless.

Ace nodded, already reaching for his radio. “Yes, sir.”

Lucian’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. The thought of razing the place comforted him.

“Jackson… likes to parade himself into weak and helpless women’s worst nightmare,” Lucian said, voice cold as ice. “He’ll get a taste of his own medicine.”

He paused, looking back at the photos. “Cover the torture cells in the warehouse, every wall, the floors, the ceilings, with pictures of the mangled bodies and empty eyes of his victims. Let him hang there and stare at

what he’s done.”

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